Heartbreak Warfare
by Quallianmaghouin
Summary: When Kurt suffers a terrible accident, he finds an unexpected protector.  Eventual Kurt/Karofsky Spoilers for 2x06 and goes AU from there
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

He didn't mean to kill him.

That's all Dave Karofsky could think as he stared down the flight of stairs. At the bottom, crumpled, unmoving was Kurt Hummel, blood slowly leaking out, haloing around his head.

Sure, he had threatened to, a lot. But he never really meant to kill him.

But Kurt had pushed him. Gotten in his face. Wouldn't step down. He was yelling about slushies. Mad, Dave guessed, that he had thrown a drink at Goth Chick again. He warned Kurt to back off.

And he was just so damn beautiful when he was angry.

So Dave did the only thing he could, he shoved the smaller boy, forgetting for one second, just one, that they were by the stairs.

Kurt had fallen. In slow motion, down and down and down, cracking and snapping, thudding and crying as he'd gone. Then a thump. Like the time Dave had hit a rabbit with his car, swerving in the other lane to catch it under his wheels. He had thought it was a rat.

Just a thump, then nothing. No screams or anything. Everyone just stopped, staring up at him, or down at Kurt.

It wasn't his fault.

Time sped up again, and there were teachers, two male cheerios holding his arms, like Dave would move to escape. Hudson was down there touching Kurt. Holding him. Puckerman was being held back, yelling at Dave and fighting against his fellow gleeks.

Hummel didn't move, and then he did. Huge jerks and tiny tremors, flailing around like he was being electrocuted. What little was left of Dave's numbed mind found the word 'seizure' and clung to it. Hudson couldn't hold on, and Kurt smacked his head back against the taller boy's face, hard enough that Hudson would have a hell of a shiner.

Finally, finally, Hummel stilled. Just in time for the paramedics to get his immobile limbs secured onto a stretcher and carry him away. There was a cop in front of him; Dave couldn't catch all the words. 'Why? What happened? Did you do this?' Dave could guess.

He shook his head, sagging out of the cheerio's grip to land on his ass, the cold tile seeping through his denim jeans and stared down the bloody stairs.

Squinting upward at the officer he frowned, trying to get his throat to work. Something like a sob came out, followed by words so softly mumbled that Dave himself wasn't sure he had spoken them.

"I didn't mean to kill him."


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter 1**

It had been two weeks, Kurt thought with a sigh. He sat patiently while his dad shaved his head, again. Doctor's orders.

He looked in the mirror, still mildly horrified. Pale and bald, with a huge, fresh scar running from the corner of his left eye, past his ear and nearly to the crown. Still red and puffy, it would be at least another three weeks before he could start growing his hair again. And that was if things went perfectly.

If he was going to be bald, god forbid he would be stubbly, or just have a stripe missing like Finn had suggested. At least his dad was handy with an electric razor.

Kurt was going back to school today, against doctor's orders, for a few hours. He had told his dad not to press charges, so it would be Dave Karofsky's first day back to school from suspension. That might have had something to do with his decision to be there.

He wasn't sure why he didn't just have that delinquent locked up. But the rumor mill convinced him he had made the right decision. Apparently the shock of nearly killing someone had extinguished 'the fury', and Jacob, somehow, got footage of him mumbling, over and over, "I didn't mean to" before throwing up all over a cop.

It was weird. First the guy shoves him down a staircase, splitting his head open, bruising his ribs—Kurt didn't even think about the seizures that lasted a week afterwards—then Karofsky shows up at the hospital, parents in tow, only to be run off by an angry Burt Hummel. The whole fiasco gave him a headache, frankly.

"Are you sure about this, kiddo?" his dad fussed, handing him a silk head scarf. Kurt deftly tied it, protecting the fresh injury from the fedora he sat down on his head. He had to admit, he looked a little demented but it was better than people gaping at the wound. Or his bald head. He hadn't had time to go shopping, but Blaine had picked him out a nice grey scarf that went with a lot of his outfits.

"I'm sure Dad," he repeated, for the fifth time. "One class and Glee. Take it easy. No dancing. Don't get too excited; call you if I get a headache. I know."

The headaches worried his father the most. Kurt remembered a few times, that first week, when a sudden headache meant an oncoming seizure. But it had been seven days, counting yesterday, that he had been fine. They had been scary, but temporary; even his doctor grudgingly agreed he was on the slow path to recovery.

The seizures had been related to the head injury, and as it healed, the seizures had stopped. But overdoing it still gave him headaches, so he was supposed to take things easy for as long as possible.

Right.

He let his dad drive him to school. And lo and behold, as soon as his dad had arrived, Kurt spotted just the man he was looking for, smoking a cigarette in his car between classes.

Gathering up his courage, and checking to make sure that Finn, Puck and a few others were not so discreetly watching him, Kurt strode up to the window and knocked. The window rolled down slowly and he waved the smoke away from his face, leaning a hip against the door.

"Dave Karofsky. We need to talk."


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter 2**

"I didn't mean to kill you."

Dave had barely rolled the window down and already he had ruined it. He had figured strong and silent would work. But it was hard to be tough when you were being stared down by Kurt Hummel, wearing a silk scarf and flanked by, at least, half the glee club. Kurt had a way of making him do stupid things.

"If I thought you did, you'd be in juvie for attempted murder," Kurt said breezily. "Luckily for you I've dealt with enough bullies to know when they don't mean it."

He hadn't meant it. Never. He just needed to keep Kurt away. And when pushing and shoving didn't work anymore, then it just... escalated.

"Then why are you here?" Dave struggled to keep the upper hand.

"Why did you come to the hospital?" Kurt countered, posing a question of his own.

Dave shrugged. "To see if I killed you." Which was pretty close to the truth. "I didn't want to go to jail," he easily lied. He had gone to stop the nightmares. The ones where Kurt died in Hudson's arms, or spasming on the floor, or lived as a vegetable hooked up to machines. Or...

Kurt huffed, sounding unconvinced.

"Is this about the kiss?" he asked Dave.

"What is this? Twenty questions?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow, wincing as it pulled his fresh wound.

"-and no. It wasn't." Or at least, Dave didn't think it was. He was pretty sure. It had been about slushies, and Kurt refusing to back down.

"Did you mean to push me down the stairs?" Kurt asked.

"No." No. He really hadn't. He hadn't been thinking, and then Kurt was just gone, tumbling down and down. "Well, I meant to shove you. I forgot about the stairs."

The smaller boy stared at him for a moment, and Dave fought not to squirm.

Having reached a decision, Kurt nodded. "Fine." He took out a pen and a scrap of paper and scribbled something on it before handing it over.

A phone number.

"I'm going to Glee now, but this isn't over. We will talk about this."

And like that he was gone, the worker freaks swarming around their queen. Dave left with the butt of a cigarette burning his fingers.

He looked down at the number, hands shaking as it finally hit him. A realization that couldn't come until he saw Kurt again, walking, talking, stupid scarf and all.

He hadn't killed Kurt Hummel.

He had nearly killed Kurt Hummel.

He hadn't meant to. Not really.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

Dave took one last calming drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out, thought briefly about going to class, then shakily lit another.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter 3**

"I know what I'm doing." Kurt rolled his eyes and patted Mercedes arm, linked through one of his own.

"What you're doing," Santana said, sitting down behind them, "is talking to the guy who turned your head into a piñata. By the way? Bald? Totally not your look," she informed him, inspecting her nails casually.

"I like it," Brittany defended Kurt. "He looks like a baby."

Kurt closed his eyes.

And really the truth was, he wasn't sure what he was doing. Not exactly. He had a general plan. Talk to Karofsky, semi-privately this time; get him to admit he was gay. Maybe get him to apologize for the unwanted kiss, and the stairs, and... Well the point was, Karofsky had a lot to apologize for.

Then what? Well then, hopefully, Karofsky would find someone to gay-talk to, and wouldn't need to shove people down stairs to convince himself he was straight. The only flaw in that plan was that Kurt was pretty much the only person anyone could gay-talk to in this school. Ms. Pillsbury didn't even have any decent pamphlets about it.

Okay, so maybe his plan should be to talk to Karofsky, get him to admit he was gay, then give him some pamphlets and maybe a gay-helpline number or something. Really, if anyone could use a helpline it was Karofsky. And he thought he had been so screwed up about the whole liking boys thing.

"OW!" He turned and glared at Puck, who had just thumped him on the, fortunately non-damaged, side of the head. "What is your problem?" he hissed.

"Dude, you've been like sleeping the whole time Schue was talking. He welcomed you back and everything."

Kurt rubbed his head, then blinked at Schue who was staring at him in concern. He didn't even remember Schue coming in.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"No problem," Mister Schuester assured him. "Are you feeling okay?"

Kurt sighed. "I'm fine."

"All right." The teacher didn't sound too convinced but let it slide.

"As I was saying, since Kurt can't participate as much for the next few weeks. We'll be focusing on choosing songs, plotting choreography, costumes..."

Damn, his dad must have beaten him to Mr. Schue. He had been hoping he could just pretend everything was normal while in glee.

"I can do costumes," he volunteered, ignoring the groans from the guys.

"I'm not wearing a boa," Artie joked.

Mr. Schue shot the boys a warning look. "That sounds great, Kurt. All right guys," he said, uncapping his marker. "Songs. Throw them at me."


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter 4**

Dave poked at a limp french fry, resisting the urge to shift nervously in his seat.

It had been almost a week since Kurt confronted him again. Their second meeting had been in Karofsky's car, the next town over, eating drive-through food, with Kurt's new gay friend tagging along.

"So you're saying," New Gay said, spearing a cherry tomato. "That you beat up Kurt because you thought he was hot?"

"Blaine," Kurt warned from the back.

"No. I just hated him being gay. I mean, being all open and shit." He wasn't sure why he was talking to them at all, especially about this, but Kurt had climbed in the car and told him where to go, and for some reason, probably because Kurt looked so damn pitiful and bitchy in that flowery head scarf that Dave found himself obeying.

Plus, his court mandated therapist had told him he needed to talk to Kurt this week, to apologize and shit. He even had to write a paper about it. So he guessed it was as good a time as any.

"You know, just because you're in the closet doesn't mean you have to beat me up," Kurt said. "Besides, thanks to you, we're getting a zero tolerance policy. Though I'm sure the slushy sales will take a beating." Kurt laughed nervously at his own joke. "You could have just... ignored me or something."

Dave shrugged. He had started picking on Kurt because it was just what people expected him to do. Beat up the weird kid. But then Kurt had outed himself, and it had been so easy for him. He had been so damn gay-pride-fest all over the school. And Kurt wasn't exactly easy to ignore. Especially not when he had started to appear in Dave's dreams.

"Why couldn't you have just been less gay?" And that was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Kurt's jaw clenched and he started getting a little red.

"Why couldn't you be less of an asshole?" Kurt shot back, sounding pissed.

"Whoa, okay. Let's back up to the part where no one was screaming," Blaine said, twisting in his seat and squeezing Kurt's knee.

Dave resisted the urge to growl.

"Look. I'm not going to beat you up anymore if that's what you're worried about," Dave continued, wondering why he was offering that up. But it was true.

"I know its hard being gay," Kurt said. "But that doesn't excuse what you've been doing." Kurt was rubbing at his eyes, and where he had been red, he was now a startling white.

"Just because you're insecure, just because you're scared doesn't mean you get to make someone else's life hell. You can't just-just. You can't-" Kurt stumbled over his words, then cried out, clutching at his head.

Before he really knew what he was doing Dave was out of the car and opening the back door, pulling Kurt out and down on to the pavement. Kurt was trembling, the shaking becoming more and more pronounced.

Blaine was at their side instantly, and Dave shifted Kurt over to him.

"I don't remember much from first aid," he said, taking off his jacket and shoving it under Kurt's head. "But don't hold on to him too tight. Just make sure he can move, and there's nothing in his way for him to hit. I think he's having a seizure."

Dave pulled out his cell phone, dialing 911. He knew this whole damn meeting had been a bad idea.


End file.
